


Single

by Randominity



Category: NSYNC, Pop Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joey's single, except for when he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Single

  
"You know," Chris said, a Sharpie marker poised thoughtfully against his upper lip. "Instead of turning to drugs, it's a wonder we didn't just start sniffing the markers we used to sign things. You know; give us that extra little something we need to face the screaming masses?" 

"Can't," Lance said drily, not looking up from the photo he was affixing his autograph to. "These are all non-toxic." 

"You say that like you've thought of it," JC laughed, thumping the bare table in front of him while he waited for a picture to reach him for him to sign. 

"They _are_ non-toxic," Chris pronounced, sniffing it. "And that--" he pointed-- "is the problem with young people today. Back in _my_ day, men were men, and markers got you high. Why, I remember wiling away many a night with the fresh scents of black and purple stuck up my nose. 'Blue nose', my mom used to call me. 'Blue nose', 'cause blue gave me that kick the others just didn't have...." 

"You know," Justin said, "of all the bullshit things you've said, this I can actually believe." 

Joey glanced sideways at Lance as they methodically processed the stack of lithographs to be signed. Scrawl and pass; scrawl and pass... it was numbing, and they almost did it more by muscle memory than by thought by now. Lance still watched every page he signed; Joey signed without looking. Their fingers touched every time Lance slid the glossy down to him, Lance sliding it farther than needed, Joey reaching for it sooner than needed. It was "efficient, professional gropage," Lance had called it once. 

Joey looked at the page beneath his hands and signed it underneath Lance's name rather than beside it. "Oh-- wait," he said. "Fucked this one up. Sorry." He quickly drew a heart between their names and slid it back to Lance. "Get me a new one, will ya?" he added, smiling brightly. 

"What'd you do with the--" Lance was already passing him a fresh sheet when his gaze fell on the cast-off. "--oh." A slow smile crept over his face as he signed the next page blind, his eyes still on the botched page, and when he flipped it over before reaching for a fresh page from the stack, Joey jabbed Lance's hand with his marker, leaving a black check mark on the pale skin where wrist bled into palm. 

Lance laughed aloud, signing the page and passing it down. "Jerk," he said affectionately, and flipped the picture back over. "4-Eva," he wrote below Joey's name, and shot Joey a grin before flipping it again. Then he reached for a fresh page, and the assembly line continued to move smoothly, Joey's sturdy fingers brushing over Lance's slender ones every five seconds. 

* * *

"So you never did tell me about that one girl," Joey observed later, spreading his hands out over Lance's bare hips. He glanced up briefly before continuing with the job at hand. 

"The one with the...?" Lance gestured vaguely with one hand. 

"The one Justin made up that song about when you guys were laughin' earlier," he explained patiently. 

"Oh. Um. She had, um, I'll say-- hygiene problems," Lance breathed. One hand skirted over Joey's hair as he spoke, the other fisting in the sheets beside him. "I mean, I don't usually-- but yeah. She was smelling, I think, not nice." He laughed a little, an abbreviated sound in the back of his throat. 

Joey licked a small circle in the dip of Lance's hip, then dotted the middle of it with the tip of his tongue. "Did you have to hug her?" he asked simply, his hand encircling the base of Lance's erection with his hand, massaging slowly with his thumb. 

Lance exhaled sharply through the nose. "Yeah, for a picture, but... uh... she brought her, um, friend, too, this really cute... ah... guy I think was into me. Oh, jeez," he added softly, when Joey sucked him into his mouth and drew his hips up closer to him. 

"Mmmm. Did he smell nicer?" Joey pulled off to ask, humming deliberately, and Lance bucked with great efforts at restraint. 

"Yeah, real good," Lance agreed, pushing down on Joey's head reflexively. 

He moved his hands up over Lance's stomach to feel the muscles flutter just beneath the surface. "So what'd you tell him, that you're taken?" 

"I didn't, um... oh..." it felt as though Lance had hooked his fingers in his hair and _looped_ it, the way he was tugging on it. "He didn't ask me... um. Sorry, what?" 

It always went this way, them talking until speech became impossible, and he loved it. Joey knew that he was worse, tending to degenerate into dirty talk; Lance settled for mere incoherence, and he loved that, too. "Nevermind," he said, nuzzling Lance's belly before diving back down, and this time he refused to give, working to finish him off, feeling the ripple of muscle under soft flesh against his hand, Lance's deep gasps filling his ears. He groped up in the sheets with one hand for Lance's, and Lance squeezed him tightly as he came with a choked cry. 

Joey swallowed and squeezed back. 

* * *

"You're kidding me," Joey said, amazed, sliding his index finger into the opening of the fan-mail envelope he held. He tugged out the letter inside as he spoke. "Like, yesterday all she was doing was babbling. Don't tell me I missed her talking, Kel. Don't tell me that." 

"Well, don't get excited yet. I mean, it's not so much words as single syllables," Kelly was saying, the clang of kitchenware filling the background noises over the phone. "Like, 'da-da'? Can't do it. But 'da'? She's there." 

Joey grinned and tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder as he unfolded the paper. "She's sayin' 'da'?" 

"She is," Kelly confirmed, the smile evident in her voice, and Joey beamed. He waved an arm in the air to get Lance's attention down the bus's aisle and gave him a thumbs-up. Clueless, Lance nevertheless returned it with a grin and bent over the fridge as he opened it up. 

"That counts, you know," he told her, already making his way over to where Lance stretched, touching the wall high up behind him with one hand while he ate a granola bar in the other. "Daddy's girl's asking for me." 

"She's working on it," Kelly agreed. 

Joey sighed. "You know I wish I could be there." He couldn't read the letter and talk at the same time, so he folded it up again and stuck it under his arm. 

"We wish you could be here, too; let's hope she's holding out for you, though, 'cause right now her word is 'ba'." 

Joey raised his eyebrows. "Like sheep?" 

"For her it means 'bottle'," was the explanation. "Or, 'blanket'. She uses it to mean 'bye', too, actually." Kelly laughed. "I think 'ba' just means 'bring me stuff', mostly." 

"She's gettin' spoiled at her young age," Joey acknowledged, slipping a hand around Lance's waist as Lance ate. "Typical Italian baby," he added, and Lance smiled at him around a mouthful of granola. 

"Typical Italian baby who's about to get fed," Kelly clarified, "so I should probably let you go. Want me to put her on for a second?" 

"You know it," Joey replied, tilting his head in to Lance's. He held the phone between them as he opened the letter again to skim it. 

"What's like sheep?" Lance whispered to him while they listened to Brianna breathe and play with the receiver. 

Joey just shook his head and smiled slightly. "Nothin'. She's uh, gonna be talking soon," he said. 

Lance placed a hand over Joey's stomach, studying it. "Doesn't mean you'll miss it when she does," he offered helpfully. 

"I hope not," Joey said, unconvinced, but was grateful for Lance's optimism. 

The letter was to congratulate him on the birth of his daughter. 

* * *

At the soundcheck party, a girl asked them who everybody was dating. "And please be honest with us," she pleaded. Joey wanted to roll his eyes, to tell her to ask around, or read a magazine, because somebody in the room was sure to know all the details, and did she realize that asking them to tell the truth had no bearing on how much of the truth they revealed? Well, probably not. 

"There's definitely, uh, someone I go home to," he said, "when, you know. We're home off of the tour." 

"I'm--" Lance started, picking up the chain. 

"He goes home to someone when we're home. That's _good_ ," Chris said. 

"I'm. Single," Lance concluded, barely containing a smile. 

Minutes later, someone else wanted to know how his baby daughter was doing. 

"She's doin' fine," he said, leaving it at that. Steve, he thought, was obviously slipping in his choices for question-asking fans. 

"Hey," Chris spoke up, raising a hand. "I have a baby too, you know. How come nobody's asked about my baby?" 

Joey smiled a little, not sure what to say to that. He and JC exchanged blank glances, knowing that there had to be a method to the madness. 

"No, seriously," Chris went on. "Is anybody here gonna ask me about my baby? I mean, he just started talkin'. First words yesterday. I'm really proud of him." 

Lance took the bait. "How's your baby, Chris?" he asked, mic pressed to his upturned lips. 

"Well. Okay, um." Chris suddenly seemed uncertain. "I don't know if he's gonna be willing to talk in front of like, all these people." He turned to Justin, concern apparent. "Justin, you think you could say a few words for the people here today?" 

Justin grinned and pushed Chris away by the face. "Shut. Up." 

Chris raised his arms in triumph. "See? See? Look at the big words he's picked up already! He's gifted." He held Justin playfully at arm's length while Justin took wildly exaggerated swings at him. "I'm putting him in special classes after the show tonight. I think he really has a future, you know?" 

"Okay," Steve finally, mercifully, took his cue. "Next question?" 

* * *

In Joey's room that night, Lance propped himself up on his elbows on either side of Joey's head and gazed down at him happily. "You know, one of these days, I swear," he said, "they're gonna ask if I'm seein' anybody and I'm gonna say 'well, there's this guy I see? when I'm on tour?'" He dipped his head to kiss Joey dead-on so that their noses met before their mouths did. 

"You wouldn't," Joey said easily, pulling away just long enough for that, before slipping his tongue into Lance's mouth. 

"I wouldn't," Lance agreed when they separated again, and worked himself between Joey's legs. 

"But you could always say there's _someone_ you see when you're on tour," Joey pointed out, opening up for Lance. Lance slid inside him with little resistance, and they both paused for a breathless moment. 

"Next time," Lance promised, his voice taut with barely-held control. 

"So, like, tomorrow," Joey breathed, and Lance huffed a laugh, his arms beginning to tremble as he moved within him. 

* * *

Home was where his family was; where he could stop being so much a voice on the phone and more a real face, a real presence, a real father, to Brianna; where Kelly moved from the elusive girlfriend of interviews to his real woman, the mother of his child, one of the two people he loved the most. 

Home was also where Lance -- the other of those two -- went back to living his own life, single, apart from Joey. 

* * *

"So?" Kelly whispered to Joey, coming into his bedroom with a thin robe over her nightgown. 

"Out like a light," Joey whispered back, looking into Brianna's sleeping face. He reached up and gently unclenched her fist from his hair before lowering her into her bassinet. 

"Then I'm kidnapping you," Kelly said. She peered over the edge of the bassinet. "She _never_ sleeps at night. She doesn't _do_ nights." She shook her head. "Amazing." 

Joey grinned at the praise. "Maybe it was the change of scenery that tuckered her out," he suggested modestly. "How long do you think she'll be out?" 

Kelly checked the clock. "Just long enough for me to fall asleep," she joked. 

"Well, then," Joey gestured for her to go ahead of him. "Let's make haste! Away! To the bed!" 

Once there, he leaned over her where she lay, her dark hair draped over the pillow, framing her head. "We'll have to be quiet," she told him, placing a hand on his chest. 

"I can do quiet," Joey agreed, kissing her gently on the mouth as he cupped her face with his hand. He slid it down to her shoulder and started to move the strap of her nightie aside, then stalled. This didn't feel right. The baby was sleeping only two feet away; Kelly was all maternal; Lance was probably hanging out at home alone.... 

Kelly furrowed her brow when Joey pulled away. "What?" 

"Nothing," Joey said. "Why?" 

"Oh." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well, we should probably try to get some sleep before Brianna wakes up in, like, half an hour," she suggested. 

She was always so good at knowing just what he wanted. 

* * *

Joey was pretty sure that the point of going clubbing with a friend was to spend some time with that friend. So why he was sitting at the booth he and Lance had chosen, nursing a beer while Lance went to talk to the tenth cute guy he'd pointed out all night, was beyond him. 

"Hey," Lance caught up with him at the booth, leaning heavily over the edge and over his shoulder. "Me and Paul are gonna go ahead and get out of here, so you're on your own, okay?" 

Joey turned his head and looked past Lance's red face to the lanky, dirty blond behind him -- presumably Paul -- and back again. "Oh, hey," he said. Paul slid both arms around Lance from behind and pulled him backwards, and Lance squirmed a little. Joey frowned. "How're you gettin' back to your place?" he asked pointedly, as if to remind Lance that he couldn't possibly expect to take a stranger home with him. 

Lance shrugged fluidly. "Cab?" he asked, one of Paul's hands cupping his belt and shit, but couldn't they wait? "I mean," he went on, speaking slowly and carefully. "I just. Wanted to. Not. Leave on you." 

"Okay, then," Joey nodded. "Don't wanna keep you from. Whatever. I just thought we were going to my place after, is all." Sullenness, he thought, did not become him. What was the deal, anyway; it wasn't the first time he and Lance had split up after going clubbing. It wasn't the first time Lance had gotten drunk and gone off with a guy he'd met on the floor or at the bar. 

It was, however, the first time it had bothered him to see it happen. 

Lance gave him a strange look. "Okay then," he said, and turned in Paul's arms; Paul didn't let go, and Lance had to put his hands up against his shoulders to steady himself before they moved away from the booth, and Joey played with his glass and tried to remember the last time he'd slept with anyone but Lance. 

A few minutes later he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and jumped. 

"Do you wanna get that cab now?" Lance asked him, bending down to speak in his ear. 

"Finished with Paul so quickly?" he couldn't resist asking. 

"Paul," Lance chuckled, "threw. Up. In the alley," he smirked. "So I let him leave alone, and now I just wanna go home." 

Joey stood to meet him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry it didn't work out," he said, finding the sincerity easy precisely _because_ it hadn't worked out. 

"Whatever. I wasn't really into doing anything anyway," Lance shrugged, and Joey grinned, putting an arm around him to steer him out of the club. 

* * *

They ended up watching movies at Joey's place instead, Joey sprawled out on his sofa and Lance curled up next to him with his head on his chest. 

"You tired?" Joey asked him when he yawned. 

Lance shook his head slightly. "No," he said. "Not really." He upturned his face and smiled. "You?" 

Joey shook his head as well. "Nah, I just. Was wondering if we should put in another movie, or, I dunno..." he shrugged, trailing his eyes over Lance's face. "Something else," he finished weakly. 

Lance shrugged. "Well, whatever you wanna do," he said, and unlike with Kelly, it was altogether too easy for Joey to kiss him when he said that. 

Some time later Lance's hands came up and gripped Joey's shoulders, the heel of his hand thumping gently against Joey's collarbone; Joey feared protest and paused, but Lance didn't let go, and tentatively, Joey pressed on. Smoothing out the fabric of Lance's t-shirt against his chest, he licked at the seam of Lance's mouth, feeling the breath coming in short puffs against his cheek; Lance's legs fell apart at the slightest nudge and Joey settled in between them, making himself at home, and all thoughts of protest were gone by the time Joey thrust himself against Lance's hip and reached inside his jeans. 

Lance whimpered softly and came first as Joey jerked them both together; then "oh, Joey... your _couch_ ," he moaned in despair, eyes wide with shock and guilt but still mostly glassy from the orgasm. He looked so becoming, sprawled out, flushed and lightly sweating, that Joey almost couldn't enter him fast enough. 

"I'll steam-clean it later," he muttered, already extending his tongue to tease a nipple, and Lance's hands ran through Joey's hair as he crossed his ankles high up on Joey's back. 

* * *

When he woke up later that morning, the couch beneath him was dry and Lance was gone. 

Leave it to Lance to choose a Hollywood movie exit, Joey thought grimly. _Let me know if you want me to steam clean_ , he had written, and drawn a goofy face, leaving the note on the coffee table. 

"Don't bother," Joey said to himself, amused, and lugged the cleaner out on his own. 

* * *

He let a day go by before calling Lance. "Okay, how does this sound," he proposed when he got Lance on the line. "We got _Spartacus_ , _The Fall of the Roman Empire_ , and _Gladiator_ \-- let's watch them all back to back and make fun of all the historical inaccuracies." 

Lance's voice seemed strained. "Heh. Actually, I think I'm gonna have to pass on that, Joe. I'm... I'm not feelin' too good," he sighed, and sounded like he meant it. 

"Oh," Joey frowned. "A cold, or the flu, or what?" 

"A cold, maybe, I dunno," Lance said, then coughed. "I'm just gonna take it easy, though, for a little while." 

"Yeah, I guess," Joey agreed. 

"So," Lance cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Have you seen Daddy's Little Girl yet today?" 

Joey smiled reflexively. "Not yet, but Kelly's bringin' her over at two." He paused. "I was kinda hoping you could stop by and see her, you know, but I guess not this time." 

Lance coughed again. "Yeah," he said softly. "I wouldn't wanna... like, give her anything, or. Or anything." He chuckled slightly. 

"Well," Joey shrugged. "Can't argue with that. Gimme a call when you feel better, okay?" 

"I will," Lance promised him. 

* * *

It was another week before Lance called him. 

"Must've been a helluva bug," Joey couldn't resist commenting. 

"No, I was pretty knocked out," Lance said lightly. 

"Or have you been having parties over at your place you weren't tellin' me about?" he went on. 

Lance gave a restrained chuckle. "Are you kidding me?" he said. "I even turned down Chris's invitation to come help him break in his _Tekken Tag Tournament_. I stayed in bed and ate, like, cookies all day." 

Joey grinned. "And watched sob movies and cried? I thought you were sick, not mopey." 

"Same difference; whatever," Lance said, then paused. "So how's Brianna doing?" 

"Napping with her mom," Joey told him. "But when she wakes up, you wanna come by and we can watch those movies again?" 

"You know, I dunno," Lance hedged on an answer. "I'm still feelin' kinda weak." 

Weak, his ass; Joey wondered what kind of funk a cold could put Lance into. "Okay then -- hey, I could bring the movies over to _your_ place and we could watch 'em there," Joey suggested. "What do you think?" 

Lance didn't answer right away. "That sounds great," he said finally, if a little softly. 

* * *

They watched the movies in Lance's bedroom, changing positions like hyperactive children and setting the comforter askew. Joey had never really been in Lance's bedroom before, beyond the guided tour; _"this is such an anal-retentive bachelor's room,"_ he'd observed, taking in the ivory-and-black theme and decor. 

_"Oh, so sorry if we can't all be leopard-print and mirrors on the ceiling,"_ Lance had shot back. _"I get enough of that on the bus, thanks."_

When the movies were finished Joey opted to stay, spooning behind Lance atop the covers as they talked about everything and nothing at all. 

"I was thinkin' of getting another tattoo," Lance was saying, toying with Joey's hand against the sheets. "You know, like something cheesy. Like a heart with 'Mom' in it or something stupid like that." He laughed to himself softly. 

Joey joined in. "Where? On your arm, like a biker?" 

"Yeah, so I can get beat up in every state," Lance said. "No, on my ankle again. I just am starting to feel like... you know, I wanted to be all practical, 'cause a tattoo's forever, blah blah." Joey kissed the back of his neck. "I thought you were crazy to get all that stuff at the beginning. But I mean-- now I look at all that stuff and it's pretty cool." 

"But like you said," Joey pointed out, trying to be a voice of reason, moving his lips down to his shoulder. "Is that what you're gonna want when you're eighty?" 

"Well, that's what I mean," Lance explained, entwining their fingers. "I used to worry about that, but, like, I bet I won't even be able to _see_ my ankles when I'm eighty, so who cares, right?" 

Joey pulled his hand free to drape it over Lance's chest. He tweaked a nipple, and Lance shivered slightly as it hardened. "You think your mom'll like it?" he asked. 

Lance unconsciously bared his neck for Joey to suck on the skin there. "I think I'll show her," he said, his voice slightly wavering, "after I've had it for like, a year, so she can't get mad." 

He chuckled along with Lance on that one, too. "She wouldn't still get mad over that," he said. 

"Yes she would," Lance told him. "She'd be like--" he affected a high voice, thickened his accent-- "'oh, honey, why'd you go do that again? You have such. _Nice_ , dignified ankles!'" 

"Okay," Joey announced, "don't ever impersonate your mother again while I'm trying to seduce you." Pressing himself forward against Lance's ass, he added, "and no more talkin' about parents for the night." 

"Joe," Lance said, as Joey's hand strayed over his stomach and down to the front of his pajama bottoms, where he wasn't even half-hard yet. He tensed under Joey's hand. "Joey," he repeated groggily, but with an edge to his voice. 

Joey paused, drawing his hand back so that he palmed Lance's hip. "Yeah?" 

"I'm, like..." Lance sighed. "Really, really tired, so, um, can we, um--" he reached back and covered Joey's hand with his own, anchoring it there. "Rain check?" 

Right. Yeah, okay, tired. "Hey, no problem," Joey assured him, sliding his hand back up to Lance's shoulder. "Just go to sleep, then." 

"You should go home to Kelly," Lance added. 

Joey shrugged. "Why? She knows I'm here," he said. 

Lance sighed again. "Whatever," he mumbled, and let it drop. 

* * *

When they were on tour Joey and Lance acted in every way like a couple, just out of the glare of public scrutiny; they shared a bunk on the bus and a bed in hotels, held hands during group meetings, kissed, cuddled, and gave lingering touches in corridors when no one was around. 

Now they were home and Joey spent so much time at Lance's house that Kelly merely woke up in the morning and asked him if he'd be taking Brianna to Lance's today or not; a few of the baby's spare things were strewn around Lance's living room and bedroom already, in their temporary homes. 

Now they shared a bed in Lance's room more often than not, and yet Joey felt further from Lance than he ever had. They'd both been too tired for sex on the road before -- or too drunk, or too excited, or too depressed or upset or stressed out -- but Joey wasn't used to feeling like nothing he did turned Lance on anymore. 

And Lance had been "too tired" for weeks. 

He sighed, straddling Lance's hips and running his hands up and down his sides. "Are you okay?" he asked Lance. "You'd tell me if you were sick, wouldn't you?" 

"I'm _okay_ ," Lance insisted, squirming underneath him in a silent plea for him to get off. "Really. I'm just--" 

"Do I-- am I hurting you, is that it?" he tried. "I'm not hurting you, am--" 

"No!" Lance exclaimed. "No, Joey, it's--" 

"Is it-- is it something else I'm doin'? 'Cause I can--" 

"Joey. No. It's really, it's noth--" 

"You know, you can tell me if--" 

"I think I'm pregnant!" Lance blurted, and there was a stunned silence before Joey snorted in disbelief, setting them both off into embarrassed laughter. 

"Dude, that was so lame," Joey finally cried, reaching up to wipe jovial tears from his eyes. 

"Well, it shut you up," was the reply, and Joey suddenly remembered what they'd been talking about, but was finally too bashful to say anything more about it. 

* * *

JC, Joey figured, knew Lance pretty well; they talked about stuff sometimes, and JC was the kind of person who attentively stored away what you said and remembered the little things that made you tick. And if Lance seemed to have clammed up physically, JC was the first person he thought might have some insight into why. 

Only how did you tell your friend that your boyfriend didn't seem to be able get it up for you anymore? Well, you didn't; that was how. So Joey called JC under the pretense of light conversation and made it up as he went along, and felt sort of like he was calling a marriage counselor or something. _"See, I have this friend...."_

"I just. Think he's, um. Maybe not as interested in me as he used to be." He prayed for a burst of static to render his side of the conversation inaudible, and watched the stove carefully from beneath his lashes. 

"Well, maybe, you know," JC shrugged audibly and Joey knew that he was picking at his table top from the pause that followed. "Maybe he just needs to be. I dunno. Wooed again or something." 

Joey smiled. "Wooed." 

"Yeah. You know, reminded why he likes you. Maybe he feels like it's gettin' old between you two. I mean, when was the last time you did something, like, romantic for him?" 

"Romantic?" Joey repeated. "I dunno -- I only co-starred in his fuckin' _movie_." When JC sighed, he went on. "I'm kidding. It's not like we're married or anything, Jayce. It's not like I ever brought him flowers or whatever." 

"Yeah, you think that might be the problem?" JC asked him, and Joey didn't know. 

* * *

The thing was that Joey didn't know what kinds of things Lance thought were romantic. He knew what Lance might do for a _girl_ he was with -- he knew what _he'd_ do with a girl -- but this was hardly the same situation; somehow he didn't think a couple dozen red roses would light up Lance's eyes the way it might for someone else. 

Lance liked the outdoors, he thought. And stars. Stargazing. And the outdoors. And alcohol. Champagne. He thought he could work with that. 

So he took Lance to his newly-done backyard. 

"Okay, now hold your hands out," he instructed, and Lance sighed, outstretching his hands and groping with them mid-air as if they were pincers. The bottom of the scarf Joey'd used to blindfold him slipped out from underneath and lay along the tip of his nose; he let Lance scrunch up his face, rabbit-like, to avoid the itch, before reaching out to tuck it under again, just because it was cute. 

"Joey," Lance told him. "If you stick something cold and wet in my hands, I'm leavin'." 

"D'oh!" Joey said, laughing, and placed a hand on Lance's shoulder, dodging free of his searching hands. "Can you trust me on this for a second here?" 

Lance smiled sweetly at him. "Wellll," he drawled. "You've never stabbed me in the chest with an ice pick _before_...." 

Joey clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit. Will you trust me even if I put something cold and wet in your hands?" 

"Joey," Lance warned, reaching up for the blindfold. 

"Ah!" he held up a finger before remembering that Lance couldn't see it. "Wait two seconds." Popping the trunk, he pulled out the bottle of Dom and pressed the lid down gently before taking one of Lance's hands in his and resting the bottle in it. Lance jolted, but instinctively brought the other hand up to support its weight. 

"Oh-- jee--" Lance frowned. "It's a bottle." 

"It's Dom," Joey announced. 

"You brought me out here to give me booze?" 

Joey rolled his eyes. "And drink it, spoilsport." He fetched the bundle of blanket that he'd wrapped the wine glasses in and opened it up. "You can take your blindfold off," he added. 

Lance pushed it up over his forehead and looked down at the bottle. "So... what's the occasion?" he asked, giving up the bottle so that Joey could fill the glasses. 

Joey shrugged. "You're easy when you're drunk?" he suggested flippantly, and Lance laughed, accepting a glass from him. "No, but really," he added seriously. "No occasion. I just. You know, I love you, and all that. I didn't want you to think I don't, like, appreciate you. Anything like that." He knocked back the contents of his glass before realizing what he'd done, watching Lance for a reaction. 

Lance held the glass steady. "I love you, too," he replied honestly, and started drinking, smirking at Joey over the rim of his glass. "So, um," he started. "Are you tryin' to get me drunk, or...?" 

" _No_ ," Joey laughed. "Did you wanna sit down on the lawn, though, maybe?" he suggested, gesturing in front of him, cringing at his abrupt change of subject. 

Lance glanced back around him and staggered back; the grass made a squishing sound beneath his feet. "Um, I think it's a little wet still," he observed, and kicked off his shoes. His socks soon followed. "I could just stand here, though." 

Joey watched him wiggle his toes in the damp grass as he drank. "Well, I have a blanket," he offered belatedly, reaching for the trunk again. "We could sit on that. Make it like a picnic kinda thing." 

"Okay," Lance smiled. "Now you're starting to freak me out." He put a hand on Joey's forehead. "Are you okay? You don't have, like, 24 hours to live or anything like that, do you?" 

Joey shook his hand off. "I'm fine. God-- can't I just. You know, romantic drink under the stars or something?" He reached out and kneaded Lance's bicep. "When was the last time we did something romantic?" 

"Romantic?" Lance arched an eyebrow. He downed the rest of his glass and folded his arms as he thought, still holding the stem delicately. "Romantic. Um. Well," he said slowly. "We can do something romantic when we start doing press for the movie; how's that?" 

_I could lose you by then_ , Joey thought sadly, and sighed, dropping his hand. "Not in the mood?" he asked. 

Lance inclined his head. "I just kinda thought... we could do something fun tonight." 

Sex was fun. Making out was fun. Joey noticed their implied exclusion in Lance's suggestion. "I guess we should take this bottle inside, then, before it gets too warm," he said, and took Lance's glass to let him put his shoes and socks back on. He should have known it was a bad idea. "Wanna get a movie instead?" 

* * *

Joey tucked in his chin to watch Lance, illuminated in blue from the light of the television. Lance's eyes were closed. "You gonna conk out here?" he asked softly, afraid to wake him if he were asleep, as his fingers drifted from Lance's cheekbone up and over his hairline, baby-fine where he didn't shave. 

Lance nodded imperceptably, his eyes still closed. "Mmm-hmm," he murmured, his head heavy on Joey's arm. "S'okay with you?" 

Joey grinned, and knew Lance would hear it in his voice. _Come up to bed and sleep there_ , he thought. "Just let me get you a blanket," he replied, and Lance rolled away to let him up. When he returned Lance had already stretched out, arm dangling over the edge of the couch and his cheek pressed against the fabric, mouth open. "Hey," he said, poking Lance in the shoulder until he groaned. "No drooling on the furniture. I haven't cleaned up the couch yet." 

Lance opened an eye. "You wouldnta let me sit here if you didn't," he slurred, and closed it again. 

"You're supposed to be too tired to figure that out," Joey scolded him, and draped the blanket over him, tucking in the sides. "Good night," he said, turning off the TV. 

"Mmmmm," was as close to a reply as he got. 

* * *

Chris raised his eyebrows and stuck out his lower lip in thought when Joey brought it up. "This is _Lance_ we're talking about?" he asked, slapping a soapy rag against the door of his Prowler and beginning to scrub. " _Our_ Lance? I thought he was way into being with you." 

Joey turned and rested his back against the door on his side, letting the water dampen his shirt. "Yeah, so did I. That's-- that's why I don't know what's buggin' him. Or, like," he shrugged and rubbed at his hairline tiredly, leaving a cooling wet streak. "Why's he pushing me away, you know?" 

"Can't tell you that, Joe," Chris admitted, then paused and added, "maybe he needs some space and just doesn't know how to tell you." 

Joey turned back to him and tossed his rag on to the hood. "Whaddya mean, space?" 

Chris shrugged, squinting up at him in the sun. "Well, you know. You said you guys were hanging out a lot these days, right?" 

"Yeah," Joey nodded. "So?" he asked, retrieving the rag and doing his part to the passenger side window. 

Chris watched him. "Sometimes Lance likes to just hang out by himself," he pointed out. 

Joey took the hose and rinsed off the window. "And he _says_ so, when he wants to," he retorted. 

"You _asked_ what I thought, Joe," Chris started. 

"And what're you telling me?" Joey said. "That Lance is, like, sick of me or something?" 

"I'm telling you maybe you two need to give it a little rest," Chris suggested. "Take a break. Don't see him so much." He sighed. "You know -- absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that?" 

"But-- that's not always true," Joey protested. 

"Yeah; I know, I know, it's all a crock of shit -- but," Chris said, coming around the front of the car and resting a hand on Joey's shoulder. "I'm tryin' to make you feel better here. I know you really like him," he added softly. "Just give him time to figure it out, maybe." 

Joey thought about it, watching water drip off of the car and run down the pavement. "That's your professional opinion?" he said finally. 

Chris squeezed his shoulder. "Bring it up next time you see him. I bet you anything he'll be a little relieved." 

* * *

Lance slowly raised his head to look at Joey, his hands stilling on the groceries he was unloading. He tucked his chin in and stared at him, unblinking, for a moment; then "you're breaking up with me," he said flatly. 

"No, I didn't say break up," Joey rushed to assure him. "Just. We should take a little time, maybe." 

" _Oh_ , 'cause when you put it _that_ way...." Pressing his lips together tightly, Lance nodded, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes. "I think that sounds like a great idea, Joey," he agreed. "A little time. That's. A good way of putting it." 

Ouch. Okay. He sounded ornery. Joey sighed and closed his eyes. "Look, if you wanna be mad, it's okay with me; I just--" 

"I'm not mad," Lance said, gesturing to himself as he backed away from the kitchen counter. The apple he'd been removing from the bag rolled along the edge and thudded to the floor; Joey winced, but Lance didn't even blink. "I'm not mad at you; I think you're totally right about this. In fact," he added, holding up a finger in thought. "You've got some stuff you left here, and I should probably give it to you." 

Joey shook his head. "I don't need anything," he started to say, but Lance had already left at a near bolt, and he was starting to wonder if Chris's suggestion had been the right one after all. 

A moment later Lance emerged from the hall with a small bag in his hands. "So um. I know you left your razor here last time, and I thought--" he widened his eyes comically, sugar dripping from his words-- "why not replace it with a brand new one? Consider it a parting gift." 

Joey nodded, taking in his mood with resignation, stroking his upper lip in thought. "Okay," he said softly. "Thanks." 

Lance glanced down into the bag, shaking it a little. "This is pretty much it for the bathroom stuff," he said, then gave Joey a significant stare. "I put in Brianna's pacifier and teething ring, too." 

"Lance--" 

"If you remember anything else, just let me know." He handed it to Joey and ran a hand over his hair. 

Joey stared down at it. "You know, I don't want it to be all final or any--" 

Lance threw up a rejecting hand, already making his way to the door, obviously intending Joey to follow him. "So, okay," he said loudly, "if that's it..." 

Joey took long strides to catch up with him, and stopped him, trying to spin him with a hand on his shoulder; but Lance was unyielding, unnaturally stiff beneath his hand, tense. Joey winced again, and launched into a protest. "Hey, look, do you wanna talk to me about this at _all_?" 

Lance whirled upon him, eyes flashing. "Look. Joey," he said abruptly. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I'll be okay. Hey, I'd break up with me, too," he added, pointing to himself, "if I couldn't get in my pants for a month." 

Oh, _fuck_. Joey closed his eyes again, pressing his fingers against them. "God-- Lance, it's not--" he took a deep breath. "I thought you didn't _want_ \--" 

"You thought wrong," Lance told him simply, tugging him by the bag and edging him back through the door. 

* * *

"Hey, fuck you," Joey told Chris, when he answered the phone. 

"Joey?" 

Joey hung up on him. 

* * *

The next time Joey saw Lance was at the airport the morning they were to leave for New York and begin press for the movie. He was already at the gate when Joey checked in, leg draped over his luggage and large sunglasses framing his face. "Hey," Joey offered congenially, nodding his head at Lance. 

Lance gave him a grin in return. "Hey," he replied, and put both legs down on the floor, straightening in his seat. "Did you want a spot here?" 

Joey's heart warmed a little. "Yeah, sure," he said, and dumped his stuff next to Lance's, taking the seat next to Lance as well. 

After several minutes passed without speaking, Joey sighed. "Hey, look," he said softly. "We're smart, we're professional, we're close, or. We used to be. We have promo to do, and like... we can't be like. Like this. Weird." He watched Lance for a reaction. 

Lance nodded, considering it. "I totally agree," he said practically. 

"Good." Joey nodded as well. "Then, I just want you to know I still really value our friendship and everything-- I just." He glanced down at his shoes. "I don't know what anymore." 

He felt, rather than saw, Lance nod beside him. "Uh-huh," he said, as if he considered it a moot point. 

"I fucked up, didn't I," he stated, rather than asked. 

There was a pause. "Probably we both did," Lance admitted quietly. 

"Can I take it back?" 

This time he did see Lance shake his head. "No." 

And they proceeded to not have a conversation until their flight was called. 

* * *

Next to him on the plane, Lance seemed determined to keep things silent, turning on his Discman as soon as electronics were cleared and gazing disinterestedly out of the window. Joey watched him out of the corner of his eye for the first hour, then debated putting his arm next to Lance's on the armrests between them, then berated himself for acting like a seventh-grader about the whole thing and pulled out a newspaper to read. Lance produced a magazine for the same purpose. 

"Okay, hey," Joey finally said when their descent was declared to be imminent. Lance looked up from his magazine and pulled one earphone free. 

"Yeah?" 

"Are we.... Are we okay?" 

Lance's gaze shifted to the side and back to Joey again before he nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said carefully. 

Well, if he wasn't going to admit there was a problem.... "So there's no problem between us, right?" He just wanted to make sure. 

Lance shook his head. 

Joey shrugged. "Okay, then," he said, and reluctantly, slowly, looked away. Lance held his gaze steady for a moment; then he replaced the earphone and looked back down at his magazine, flipping through it until they had to head off for the hotel. 

* * *

"So is it true," David Letterman asked them, "that you two are-- you're pretty much best friends in real life, is that true?" 

Lance smiled and rolled his eyes the way he was unable to prevent himself from doing when he was asked a particularly stupid question, and shrugged. "Yeah, I _guess_ ," he said, easily enough and cattily enough that doubters could be left wondering if he meant it as a joke. 

Joey knew. 

"Yeah, we're fightin' right now, though," he threw in, grinning for the audience and the cameras. "We hate each other." The audience laughed respectfully; Dave grinned like a cat who'd eaten the canary. 

"Really, though," Lance said, over the crest of laughter. "This is, like, the first and last buddy flick we'll be doing." Which was true enough, but anyone sitting near enough to Lance to practically feel the electricity of his hackles raising would know that the comment and the context were meant for Joey alone. 

Joey knew that, too. 

* * *

They revived the schtick for the shows they did the following day and evening, Lance eventually adding that the rarity of this particular buddy comedy ought to be incentive for fans to go see the movie. Joey simultaneously admired and despised Lance's sense of business even at a time like that; he also recognized that there was no better time for it to assert itself because, at least, Lance wasn't throwing a temper tantrum on-air and calling Joey out. 

In the meantime Joey got his makeup for shows done after Lance did, because when he watched Lance get his makeup done he always wanted to go over and make Lance laugh, make the makeup people mess up, stand behind Lance's chair and watch him in the mirror and muss his hair with his chin. 

Lance mostly talked to Joey like he was okay, but with a sort of affected coolness, the kind that he saved for associates. Warm, but uninviting. Open, but unrevealing. Joey knew that he did it to keep hurt from his voice -- they all had their defense mechanisms -- but he had never before been on the receiving end of that treatment, and it made not being able to be with Lance hurt even more, because now when he draped an arm around Lance and there were no cameras around, Lance ducked out from under him and went to talk to somebody else. 

* * *

Their last morning in NYC they were scheduled to do the Today show. Joey dragged himself out of bed on his wake-up call, showered quickly just to get his eyes open, and threw on a t-shirt and jeans, not bothering to shave. A baseball hat covered his uncombed hair nicely; he was in the mood to make makeup earn their pay this morning. 

"What?" he yelled at the door when someone had the audacity to knock after he had just flopped back on to his bed to flick idly through the remnants of infomercials saturating the airwaves. 

Lance. "Hey, Joey-- we've got, like, ten minutes before we gotta get out of here, and I need to talk to you." 

Those were the magic words if any existed, so Joey sighed and turned off the TV to open the door-- 

\--and was promptly ambushed with an armful of Lance, who kicked the door shut behind him. 

"Okay, I'm sorry, I lied, I was wrong, I didn't mean it, I take it all back, I'll make it up to you right now, I promise," Lance breathed against Joey's neck as he pressed Joey backwards into the wall behind the door. 

"Whoa--wait-- what? What's this? What're you talking about?" Joey managed to question through the barrage of frantic kisses Lance was showering upon his face. 

"I don't know," Lance murmured distractedly against his chest, hiking up the hem of his shirt. "But I really, um, wanted you to fuck me, so I thought I'd try and cover my bases," he whispered lustily, and whatever parts of Joey were not hard by then certainly were now. 

_We don't have time!_ Joey thought urgently, as Lance opened his fly with a swift tug and licked his stomach. "We don't have--" he started to say, but then Lance's mouth was on his dick, sucking hard, and something in him told him to shut the hell up, and he obeyed. 

* * *

They kept up the fighting schtick that morning as well, but Lance laughed this time when he told fans to go the movie to catch this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and that made all the difference. 

"Are we okay -- for real -- now?" Joey asked him as they made their way back to the elevator side by side. 

"Are we still on a break?" Lance asked him in response. 

"Absolutely not," Joey swore fervently. After a blowjob like the one he'd been sent off with? He wanted to _marry_ Lance. 

Lance turned to security. "Could you meet us upstairs, Lonnie?" he suggested to the hulking bodyguard, and pulled Joey into the elevator alone; and somewhere between the eighth and ninth floors he was about to ask Lance again if they were okay, in case Lance had forgotten, when Lance said "JoeyI'minlovewithyou," his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. After a moment he looked up nervously, making eye contact for only a second before he glanced away again. "I mean," he explained. "I don't just _love_ you. Um. It's. Yeah, I'm in love with you, is the only way to say it, I guess," he decided, raising one shoulder uneasily. 

"Wh--" Joey started, blinking, but he'd heard it; he just couldn't process it immediately. Lance was in love with him. Did that mean they were okay? It probably meant they were _more_ than okay. "O...kay. Um." There was a severe lack of brain-to-mouth co-ordination going on here. "I'm, um..." 

"Don't say it back, Joe, okay?" Lance told him, his head snapping up. "Even if you-- like, if you _mean_ it, don't say it. Not yet. I just wanted to be honest with you, 'cause I think we're." He swallowed hard, shrugged, and slumped slightly against the railing. "I had to be honest with you." 

The elevator stopped and Joey was still trying to figure it out, aware that he hadn't said anything coherent yet. "Can I come to your room?" he asked, beating himself mentally the whole time. 

Lance gave him a shy, nervous smile, like he used to when they first got together. "Yeah," he said. 

* * *

"Hmmm. That was. Pretty nice," Lance sighed, curling his arms up under him and on to Joey's chest. 

Joey agreed, smiling, giving the ceiling one hell of a happy gaze. "It's been way too long." 

"Yeah, since this morning, for _you_ ; what a wait," Lance drawled sarcastically. "It's been just a _tad_ \--" he freed a hand to pinch his thumb and forefinger together, a sliver apart-- "longer for me, you know." 

And Joey suddenly realized he could have said it back, lying in Lance's bed with Lance panting his ear. He could have said that he was in love with Lance and _meant_ it, _God_. Lance gave a post-orgasmic shudder and Joey brought up a hand to smooth over his back. His fingers passed over the small raised mole that Joey knew was under Lance's left shoulderblade; he mentally kissed it and moved on. A tiny dip in the small of Lance's back; chicken-pox scar. He mentally kissed it and moved on, wondering how long he should wait before returning Lance's comment. 

"Yeah, but I missed you a lot," he said finally, finding the dip of Lance's tailbone and tracing it. "So it wasn't me?" he ventured. "That you had a problem with?" 

"Nope." Lance shook his head solemnly, large eyes studying Joey's face. "We're... we're gonna have to talk when we get back." 

"Okay, 'cause I'm in love with you, too," Joey blurted suddenly, having given it approximately two minutes. 

Lance's eyes flickered wider for a second, but otherwise he didn't react; instead he purred contentedly as he stretched, appropriately cat-like, and rolled on to his side. "You should go talk to Kelly when we get back, too, then," he said, as though he hadn't heard Joey. 

"Okay," Joey said carefully. "Um. I just said I'm in love with you." 

Lance smiled sadly and kissed him. "I know," he told him. "Doesn't that mean she deserves to know?" A fine line appeared between his eyebrows as he searched Joey's face. "Un-- you're not gonna keep seeing her, are you?" 

Joey shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't _even_ seeing her," he said. Lance merely looked puzzled. "Lance, there's no Kelly," he explained. "There... there is no me and Kelly. There hasn't _been_ a me and Kelly since, like, last year." He sighed. "There's. Only been you." 

Lance lowered his gaze to Joey's mouth, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks when he blinked, saying nothing. He took a deep breath, and then another. 

"I thought..." Joey shrugged. "I thought you got that, but I guess I was wrong," he finished. 

"Joey." Lance looked up at him. "Were you ever gonna tell me this?" 

"What, about Kelly? About.... About me and you?" 

Lance shrugged. "Either. If I hadn't said it first. Would you ever have told me?" 

He thought about it. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "It's not the kinda thing I usually plan sitting down and sayin', you know?" 

"God, I _know_ ," Lance sighed, and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "It was the _situation_ I had the problem with, Joe. _God_. It was--I thought Kelly--" he made an incoherent sound of frustration and flopped back against the pillow. 

Joey was beginning to see how it might have happened then, the past few months; fragments of conversations flashed through his mind, misunderstood intentions; hindsight made him start to ache with regret. "We officially suck, I think," he said gravely. 

"And I wasn't gonna say anything at all, either," Lance added softly, sitting up so that the sheet fell from his shoulder to his hip. "Ever," he emphasized, then paused. "You know who told me to say something?" 

Joey couldn't even begin to guess. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Um, God?" He smiled -- hey, Lance still prayed; it was possible. 

Lance closed his eyes and grinned from ear to ear, his shoulders shaking in silent mirth. "Uh, no. Justin," he announced. 

Joey sat up abruptly as well. "You talked to Justin about this?!" he said in disbelief, while he thought _why didn't_ I _talk to Justin about this?_

"And he told me to stop feeling sorry for myself and come clean with you," Lance said firmly. "Look around," he outstretched his arms, "and tell me it wasn't worth it." 

Joey reconsidered. "Okay, Justin is _so_ my favorite member of *NSYNC," he declared. 

"Yeah; mine too," Lance grinned. 

* * *

So Joey went to talk to Kelly, because he agreed with Lance that she deserved to know that his not sleeping with her wasn't going to be a temporary fluke and rather a way of life. 

"Okay, so first," he began in earnest, "I wanna tell you I'm sorry, and I didn't mean for this to happen; it just did." 

Kelly glanced over her shoulder at him as she paced in the opposite direction, bouncing Brianna in her arms. "What'd you do; what happened?" she asked with genuine curiousity. 

Joey took a deep breath. "Me and Lance," he said. "Me and Lance happened." 

She raised her eyebrows at him. 

He tried again. "We kinda ended up-- um. Falling in love. With each other." 

A slow smile spread across Kelly's face as realization dawned and she turned to face him. "Oh-- that's great! Hey, congratulations!" 

"Thanks. But-- no," he shook his head. "I mean. I can't see you anymore. 'Cause of, um." 

Kelly nodded. "Yeah; 'course. That's okay." 

"I want you to know," he went on anxiously, "I still wanna be a part of Brianna's life -- I'm not, you know, walking away or anything. It's just that -- you know." 

Kelly caught up with him, balancing Brianna on her hip as she looked up at him earnestly. "Joey, you don't have to be my boyfriend to be a good father," she told him, her voice gentle. "It's not like we've really done anything since forever, right?" 

"But," Joey protested, "does this bug you at all? I mean, are you okay with just... us not being together anymore? I mean, I wouldn't want you to be upset or anything." 

Kelly shook her head. "Not really. What, is that too good to believe?" 

The thought had certainly crossed his mind. Joey stopped and stared, simply marvelling at her. "Why are you so okay with this?" he asked her. "How come you're always so okay with everything?" 

She merely shrugged and handed him his daughter. "Because I'm not blind?" she suggested, and passed him the pacifier as well. 

* * *

They hadn't been on the second leg of the tour for a week when somebody asked, at the soundcheck party, if they were dating anybody. 

"I'm definitely seeing somebody, yeah," Joey said, when it came to his turn. 

Next to him, Lance took a breath. "I'm--" 

Joey kissed him, a loud, wet peck on the cheek, and pulled back, grinning, and Justin, on the other side of Lance, kissed him too, while the audience went wild, matching Lance's blush. 

"--single," Lance finished, and ducked his head, smiling. 


End file.
